Will the Real Santa Please Stand Up? / Executive Santa Gets a Brand New Suit, Plays His Part for S.F. Symphony Benefit

Dave Ford

Published
4:00 am PST, Friday, December 10, 1999

1999-12-10 04:00:00 PDT San Francisco -- On the face of it, Jerry Parsons is just like any other senior vice president and managing director of a major company.

He works hard at DHR International, an executive search firm. He skis and plays golf. He lives on Nob Hill with his wife of 32 years, Suz- anne, a fifth-generation San Franciscan; the couple occasionally appeared in the late Pat Steger's social column in The Chronicle.

One day out of the year, however, Parsons shucks the executive's button-down garb in favor of a flashier, softer look -- something red, something velvet.

On that day, the day of the San Francisco Symphony's annual "Deck the Hall" fund-raiser, Jerry Parsons becomes Santa Claus.

"The beauty of this is that it gets you into the spirit of Christmas early in the game," says Parsons, 59, who played St. Nick last Sunday. "The real spirit of Christmas is dealing with the children."

RECRUITED BY WIFE

"Deck the Hall" kicked off in 1980 as a way to introduce families to the newly minted Davies Symphony Hall. Louise M. Davies, the benefactor for whom the hall was named, led a holiday sing-along, and local corporations -- Gumps, I. Magnin and Macy's among them -- decorated giant trees arranged in the hall's lobby.

Suzanne Parsons served on the ladies auxiliary that helped organize the first event, so she pressed her husband into service as Santa.

"Louise Davies, bless her, would always show up, and was kind of Mrs. Claus," Jerry Parsons says of the renowned San Francisco philanthropist, who died last year at 98.

"Deck the Hall" eventually expanded to include a variety of activities for the kids. Last year, it raised more than $100,000 for the symphony's education programs. Symphony spokesman Oliver Theil says this year's event, which included performances by the Lowell High School chorus and San Francisco Girls Chorus, among others, will raise $130,000.

This year's event also saw Parson's return as Santa after a five-year hiatus. Parsons' children are now in their 20s, so he says that if it weren't for Santa duties, he might not have a high level of holiday involvement.

SEGA WHAT?

Still, he says, distance from the season's hot toy crazes can leave him baffled.

"These kids will sit on my lap and say, 'I want the Sega something game,' and I'm saying to myself, 'What the hell is that?' " he says. "I'm a wagon and doll and sports stuff person myself."

As Santa, Parsons says, he has to be cautious about how he answers kids' requests. He tries to pay attention to nearby parents' cues.

"The kids will say they want a dog or a cat or a horse, and I'll say, 'Did you talk to your parents about this?' " he says. " 'Oh yeah,' they'll say, 'We have room for it and we'll make sure it gets fed.' You have to be careful, because sometimes you can cross the parents up: 'Sure, I'll bring that rhinoceros on Christmas morning for ya.' ''

What has surprised him most, Parsons says, is the sense of duty he has developed toward his young charges.

"These kids totally believe you're Santa, and, gee, that's fragile," he says, adding that, the first couple of years, his morning appearances followed late-night parties. It was a practice he eventually discontinued.

"You realize these kids are looking to you, and you have a responsibility. You want to uphold that tradition."

Parsons says that, during an eight- hour Santa day, he'll soak his gut- bulging pillow with nearly 10 pounds of honest Santa perspiration. But it's worth it, he says, because in the end, what he gains is derived from what he gives.

"When I'm Santa, I'm not soliciting anything," he says. "I'm just trying to spread good cheer."

And why would a high-flying executive spend a day dandling kids on his lap and listening to occasionally outrageous gift requests?